In the desolate landscape of the post-apocalyptic world, a lone survivor found themselves cornered by a ravenous walker, its decaying hands reaching out with an insatiable hunger. Panic seized the survivor as they fumbled for a weapon, their heart racing with fear.

Just as the walker lunged forward, a figure emerged from the shadows with swift, decisive movements. It was Negan, his leather jacket billowing behind him as he swung Lucille, the barbed-wire-wrapped baseball bat, with deadly precision. The bat connected with a sickening crunch, sending the walker staggering back before collapsing to the ground in a lifeless heap.

With a smirk, Negan turned to the survivor, his eyes gleaming with amusement and a hint of self-satisfaction. "You owe me one," he declared, his voice carrying a mix of authority and casual nonchalance.